


Lost in Mindpalace

by irene_novak



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crush, Fluffy Ending, M/M, Nudity, Sherlock Being an Idiot, Sherlock's POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-03
Updated: 2014-01-03
Packaged: 2018-01-07 06:18:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1116508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irene_novak/pseuds/irene_novak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is working on a minor case but his mind seems to be elsewhere. Someone is disturbing him in his mindpalace and he's trying to get rid of that 'visitor'...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost in Mindpalace

**Author's Note:**

> Please be gentle, it's my first fic. Not quite long, I know. English isn't my first language so tell me if there are typos or grammar errors. Go check my tumblr (peter-thedoctor-capaldi.tumblr.com) and enjoy!

Sherlock was working on this case, Ron Green case. Probably not a suicide. The question is, who killed him? Minor case but Mycroft asked him -obliged him- to solve it. Anyway, it won't even take his afternoon. He needed to go through his mindpalace first, as usual. This is where is gets complicated.

He was visualizing the elements: gun in right hand but left-handed, the blood splatters on the floor... But it was getting blurred and a vision was reappearing; John examining the corpse. Sherlock didn't understand why he lost control of his mind and why this particular image. "Must be tired" he said before getting up from 221B's couch to get some tea.

He was drinking while deducing that Mr Green just lost his job when he heard the shower running. He surprised himself imagining his flatmate under the said shower. Hot water flowing down his chest to his cock. His hair getting a darker shade. John and his muscle structure. John. "Focus" Sherlock commanded to himself.  
When the subject of his thoughts came into the living room mumbling about what they'll eat at dinner, Sherlock was surprised. He spent the entire afternoon thinking about John.

Not done yet? Not your habits. MH  
Sherlock didn't even bothered to answer, he had other things to do. Like trying to get his flatmate out of his mindpalace.

During the dinner (well, John eating his chinese takeaway his computer on his lap and Sherlock neglecting his food in front of his microscope), the detective didn't stop throwing a glance in his friend's direction, hoping not to get noticed. But his sandy blonde hair was capting his attention. The tall man wasn't looking anymore at his microscope. John was occupying his mind and he couldn't help it.

He really had trouble to get asleep. Well, more than other nights. This thing was stucked in his mind. Why didn't he manage to think without an apparition of John? Just by mentioning his name, it started over.  
John dazzled by the sun, John running in London's streets, John at Angelo's, John...John... He was fed up with this, he appreciated him -it's been a few months since they started to solve crimes together- but sentiment is a disadvantage. Although, Sherlock was craving with desire to get up and watch him in his bedroom. He couldn't. He shouldn't. But he did. He climbed on the second step before the landing. He could see him via the glass. It wasn't totally see-through but the dark haired man didn't care. The shape of John under the sheets. He went closer and pressed his ear to the door. He heard his breath. If only he was in that bed, with him, soothed by this sound, his breath... John started to move. Sherlock, panicked, returned as fast as possible downstairs, thinking he had been revealed. The young detective went to bed and, weirdly, fell asleep quickly. He dreamed about John.

Do you even remember the Green case? MH  
Sherlock got the text the morning after. He noticed he totally forgot that case.

-Have you heard a...noise when you were sleeping? asked Sherlock innocently  
-No, I haven't. Why this sudden interest towards my sleep? snapped back the blond  
-Nothing...Just to know...

John went to the Tesco that afternoon (they were running out of milk) (again) and Sherlock laid on the couch. He decided to go to his mindpalace to clear the past events up. His mindpalace was a complex place with a gigantic maze of pieces. All this information stored up in different rooms. And John. Everywhere. Sherlock tried to talk to him."What are you doing here? Why? Why are you here?" he asked. John didn't answer. He was just doing domestic things. Read the papers, do the washing-up, drink his tea...  
-Why? Emotions, why are they even here for? Useless, weakenesses...he said, a crack in his voice.  
-Why? I am sick of this! I deleted emotions! he was now shouting at the sky.  
He was crying. Now, he was asking directly at John.  
-Why are you here? Are you lost?  
These last words resounded in Sherlock's mind. There was nothing. No more data, no more anything, no more John. He needed to find the solution. He was furious.

Suddenly, Sherlock opened his eyes. John was putting the jam into the cupboard with the other errands. The doctor was watching him with a quirky smile on his face.  
-Finally awake, eh?  
-Who told you I was sleeping? said the dark-haired man, returning the smile.  
The detective couldn't be mad at John, just at himself by not understanding earlier. It was so simple.  
Sherlock Holmes was in love.


End file.
